


On the Threshold of Mystery

by LikeMeReckless



Series: Threshold Series [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 17:30:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19931818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LikeMeReckless/pseuds/LikeMeReckless
Summary: In the aftermath of college, Betty and Jughead find themselves running the Riverdale Register. Now, after exposing The Farm, halting a human trafficking group, and shutting down an illegal drug  ring, they find themselves faced with their greatest mystery of all.





	On the Threshold of Mystery

_ I am you, anxious one.  _

__

_ Don't you sense me, ready to break  _

_ into being at your touch?  _

_ My murmurings surround you like shadowy wings.  _

_ Can't you see me standing before you  _

_ cloaked in stillness?  _

_ Hasn't my longing ripened in you  _

_ from the beginning  _

_ as fruit ripens on a branch?  _

__

_ I am the dream you are dreaming.  _

_ When you want to awaken, I am that wanting:  _

_ I grow strong in the beauty you behold.  _

_ And with the silence of stars, I enfold  _

_ your cities made by time.  _

_ Poem By Rainer Maria Rilke _

  
  


**Saturday, May 18, 2024**

**6:30 PM**

**Riverdale Register**

“I swear if I have to cover another parade, retirement, or high school awards assembly I am going to lose my ever-loving mind!”

Jughead Jones looked up from the keyboard on which he was typing, cautiously meeting his girlfriend’s eyes. Her normal gentle green orbs were squinted in frustration and bloodshot from lack of sleep. Pushing the rolly chair back from his desk space, he took both of Betty’s hands in his own.

“Betts, I know it’s been a slow news week,” he began, pausing and recoiling from the intensity of the dirty look she shot his way. “Okay, correction. It’s been a slow news month. But isn’t that a good thing? It means that things around Riverdale are finally stable.”

Betty sighed and let her shoulders slump a bit, hands going limp between his own. She let him tug on her palms and pull her sideways onto his lap where she nestled herself onto his shoulder, tucked beneath his chin. Here, all her worries were soothed and her frustration tucked away as well.

“I don’t want chaos in Riverdale, Juggie,” she sighed, fingers idly playing with his. “I just feel so- stagnant. You know? I keep worrying that we made the wrong choice by staying here and taking on the paper.”

Four years prior, right after graduation, Veronica had organized a joint graduation party for all of their friends; one giant blow-out to celebrate the end of their time at Riverdale High. Towards the end of the night, Veronica and Hermione had called Betty and Jughead into the study and away from the crowd.

For most of the school year, they had worked tirelessly to help Veronica clear Hermione’s name. It was their sleuthing that uncovered the evidence that Hiram had planted and secured Mrs. Lodge’s freedom. For that, Veronica was eternally grateful.

“Since I came to Riverdale, I know we’ve had our ups and downs,” Veronica admitted. “But despite any disputes that arose, you always had my back...and my mother’s.”

Hermione smiled and stepped out from behind their large oak desk, her fingers gripping a small box, neatly wrapped in golden cellophane paper. 

“We’ve been wanting to thank you since then, but we really couldn’t think of anything that would ever quantify what you did for our family. Then a few weeks back Veronica came up with this.”

Taking a few steps forward, Hermione held out the box to her guests, a small smile playing on her face. Betty, looking first towards her boyfriend and then towards her hosts, took the box from her, offering her thanks. Tugging on the embossed seal holding the paper together, Betty peeled back the wrapping to find a regular, white gift box. Popping the lid off the top and peering down, Betty saw a set of small golden keys inside nestled on top of an official-looking piece of paper.

Jughead looked up curiously at Betty and then back to the contents of the box before once again settling on Veronica.

“V?” Betty questioned, picking up the keys from the box.

“Consider this thanks and a graduation gift, you two,” Veronica smiled as Betty carefully unfolded the piece of paper inside. Betty’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open to form a perfect “O”.

“V, no way. This is too much,” she stammered, shaking her head.

Peering over her hand, Jughead could now see why Betty was so flabbergasted. In her hand was the deed to The Register, the Riverdale paper her parents used to own.

“It’s not too much, honey,” Hermione said, placing a hand on top of Betty’s shaking one. “In many ways, it was taken from your family in an incredibly shady, underhanded deal. The way I see it, it truly belongs to you anyway.”

With no college funds in either of their names, Betty and Jughead opted to go to local community college while working and running the paper instead of wracking up an exorbitant amount of student loans between them. To her credit, Hermione had said she wanted them to finish school and part of her gift was financing a staff and helping them until they graduated. 

Over those four years, while managing 4.0 GPAs, Betty and Jughead uncovered a secret drug ring, helped Alice expose and shut down The Farm, and stopped a human trafficking group from setting up a shop in Riverdale. Charles, their mutual half brother, joked that when they graduated, they could always use a sleuthing duo like them at the FBI.

For the past few months though, news had been slow and Betty had been getting an itch; an itch for a big break.

Placing a kiss on the crown of her head, Jughead reassured her. “Betty, not only did we do a ton of good in these past four years, but we did it together. I don’t regret our choice one bit. I’m doing what I love with who I love. What part of that could be bad?”

Pouting out her lower lip and giving him a smile, Betty leaned forward to kiss him. “You’re right, Juggie. Who could be luckier than us?”

Nodding once and smiling back her, he patted her backside lightly. “Now, you better scoot off me before the boss comes in and finds us in this compromising position.”

Crinkling up her nose and leaning in closer to him, Betty placed another kiss on his lips. “Jug, we are the boss,” she reminded him.

“Well, in that case…” he muttered before standing and sliding her onto his desk, her screech of delight muffled as his lips met hers once more.

“Seriously, Jug. Right here right now?” Though she asked the question, she wasn’t complaining. She never did when it came to him. As his fingers inched her skirt up higher, hers found his belt buckle.

“I finished laying out the paper, so why not lay out my girl next,” he panted, teeth biting her shoulder while her she pushed his pants as far as she could down his thighs.

“Ha. You’re so punny, Jug. Pants off. Now,” she countered.

“Removing pants. Got it. We need the ‘write’ tool to get the job done,” he retorted, removing his pants and sliding her panties down her legs.

“Oh my God, Jug. I swear. One more pun and the only thing you’ll be putting to bed tonight is the paper,” she gasped, arching her back as he hit a sweet spot.

“Paper’s already to bed, Betty. I’m very efficient when I want to be. I even got Tom Keller to sign that release you wanted.”

“For the love of layout, never ever mention Tom Keller or any other father of Riverdale while your hard news is tangling with mine! And while we’re on that topic. The only release I care about right now is ours, Juggie.

“Touché, boss lady. Copy that.” There were no more words from that point on.

Later that night while Betty slept, one leg untucked from their tangled sheets, Jughead sat up watching her, taking in her now relaxed features under the moonlit glow in their darkened room. He vowed to make it his prerogative to keep her tension at bay and find her a story to sink her teeth into.

**Thursday, June 6th**

**8:00 PM**

**Angeloni’s Restaurant**

“Kevin!” Betty’s screech echoed across the restaurant, causing many a diner to look up at her in distaste. “Sorry!” She giggled, not caring much, and met him at the table with a right, warm embrace, rocking back and forth as they hugged. Kevin pecked a welcome kiss on her cheek and took in her appearance, still connected by their pretzeled arms.

“Betty! God, I missed you! And you look amazing! That dress was made for you!”

Betty smiled and did a mock twirl, showing off her new black dress for him. She had bought it for a date night with Jughead, knowing the hardware on the dress would do him in, but their date nights had been few and far between this past month and he’d seemed pretty preoccupied.

“Aww, thanks, Kev. I’ve been looking for a chance to wear this and just hadn’t found the right occasion.”

“What, no bar-hopping with that brooding man candy of yours lately?

Betty blushed as his description of her boyfriend and shook her head at Kevin.

“Some of us actually have to work, Kev. Now, dish about this internship you got hired after!”

Pulling out her chair for her and then his as well, Betty and Kevin finally sat down, arms still connected, side by side at the table. A waiter came by offering them sparkling or flat water and placed down some menus while they talked.

“I’m so excited Betty. Feldner and Bach is one of the premier party planning agencies in New York. They plan galas and movie premieres and all these high profile events! I was blown away when I landed the internship, but then to be offered a job there… this is the stuff dreams are made of.”

Betty looked around the table and flagged the waitress over, ordering a bottle of champagne for them. 

“I’m so excited for you, Kev! We have to celebrate tonight. You really deserve this after all you went through and you’re going to be ah-mazing.”

The waitress had returned and poured them both a glass of bubbly, taking their orders as well before vacating the table once more.

Betty lifted her glass in a toast. “To your new job. May your clients be less bitchy than Cheryl.”

“I’ll drink to that,” he agreed with an eye roll. “And I’d. like to add, to you, Betty Cooper. We both know without your pain in the ass persistence that I wouldn't be here today.”

They both downed their glasses and Kevin poured another refill while catching up on the past few months, Kevin’s current love interest, and Betty’s future plans with Jug.

“Please come to New York! You two would love it there and I have so many connections I made that already know who you are and would die to snag the pair of you. You’re like a modern-day Lois and Clark.”

Flicking her fingers over the candle at the table, Betty watched the firelight flicker against her skin. New York sounded exciting, a new adventure, but they still had The Register to consider and an obligation to Riverdale. She could sense Jughead’s jumpiness and tension lately and chalked it up to slow news. Maybe he was bored. Maybe New York would be a nice change of pace for them.

“We’ll think about it, Kev,” she promised. “We’ve been keeping our minds open to options.”

As the food arrived and their conversation returned to Kevin’s love life, something he said caused Betty to pause.

“... so since I had to be home this weekend anyway-“ he had said.

“What do you have going on, Kev?” she asked. “Are you going to Veronica’s party? You and Polly text me the same day and said you were coming in and I was surprised because V said her get together was small.”

Kevin downed his drink and shrugged his shoulders, grinning wide. “You know Veronica. Her small is our Royal Wedding.”

The rest of the dinner passed in laughter and happiness. Betty had missed Kevin more than she even realized and it was nice to have his friendship to take her mind off the doldrum of Riverdale.

  
  


**Friday, June 7th**

**9:00 AM**

**Riverdale Register**

“Riverdale Register,” Betty’s voice sung into the phone. “A meaner, leaner news. Elizabeth Cooper speaking.”

“Betty? Betty is that you, dear?” a voice called back from the other side of the line.

“Mrs. Hedgeman?” Betty asked, sighing lightly through her words. She was hoping for a big break today, and a call from Mrs. Hedgeman usually led her to cover water aerobics or an arts and crafts festival down at the Senior Center where she was activities director.

“Yes, dear. So nice of you to recognize my voice. Anyway, I just got back from visiting Sheriff Jones at the police station and he told me to contact you and Forsythe Jr. as well. He said he could use the extra eyes and ears on this one.”

At her words, Betty perked up and grabbed a pen and her notepad from the back of her desk. While it was the digital age, Betty did her best work on paper. She liked to feel the facts and doodle her thoughts away.

“Go on, Mrs. Hedgeman. I’m listening.”

An hour later, Jughead walked into their office to find Betty sprawled out on the floor surrounded by file folders, post-it notes, and photographs.

“Cleaning out your purse again?” Jughead joked.

Ducking to avoid the sharpened pencil she javelined over her shoulder at him, he leaned up against the desk across from her, chewing on a pack of Twizzlers.

“Jug, you know you’re supposed to eat those one at a time, right? That’s the point of individual pieces.”

“I find it more efficient to just assume they are one unit and chomp my way through the pack. It’s satisfying,” he explained.

Shaking her head at his next big bite, she resumed her enthusiasm for the task at hand.

“So, Mrs. Hedgeman called today,” she recounted.

“Ah, yes. Water aerobics?” He mumbled, mouth full of sticky cherry candy as Betty shook her head. 

Quirking a brow at her head shake he asked, “Arts and crafts fair?” 

Betty shook her head again.

“No, Jug! No old people backstroke, no macrame plant hangers, and no +75 kickball tournaments. We have an actual mystery! An investigation!” Betty beamed, happiness radiating out of every pore in her body.

Flicking his tongue out to grab an errant piece of red candy from the pack he smiled back at her, elated to see her exuberance return. Tossing the wrapper in the waste paper basket, he clambered onto the floor across from her, legs sprawled out to his sides.

Handing her the last chewy Twizzler from his snack, which she wordlessly accepted, he took down his suspenders, and popped off his trademark boots, settling in for what he assumed would be a long session going through notes and making an investigative plan.

“Alright, Anna Quindlen, catch me up to speed here,” he demanded. 

“Last night at the Senior Scrabble Tournament, a long-time resident of the Senior Center, Mary Jones, no relation to you or so I’m told, was found dead midway through the festivities.”

“A murder?” He asked. “You’re this chipper about a murder? Remind me not to piss you off.”

Slapping him lightly she couldn’t help but laugh, too.

“I’m not happy someone died, Jug,” Betty explained. “But I am excited to try and solve this case. It had some weird details in the file when your dad faxed it over.”

With Jughead reading through some of the details, Betty became impatient.

“She was found in the parking lot, probably taking a smoke break according to her friends there, with odd puncture marks on her neck and arms.”

“Puncture marks like from needles?” He curiously flipped through the photos, wincing a bit at the deep gashes in her neck.

“Less like needle pricks and more like bites,” Betty added, having held back that bit of information for the right moment, excited to spring the twist on her boyfriend.

“Bites as in…nibbles? Like human bites?” He scooted closer to her to share the file she was now holding.

“As in teeth marks made by what appears to be a human jaw. “

Jughead finished sifting through the files, looking at the preliminary information they had before closing the Manila folder.

“So, first we go see my dad and Dr. Curdle Jr. and then we hit the Senior Center?” He was already standing, offering Betty a hand to pull her up from the floor.

“That was my train of thought as well, unless you want to split up,” she stated, packing the files into her shoulder bag.

“Let’s go together. It’s been a while since we’ve been able to really dive into an investigation together. I know we’ll cover less ground, but two heads are better than one,” he decided.

Lacing their fingers together she tugged him out the door. 

“We’ve always worked better as a team, Jug.”

“Well then,” Jug said, opening her car door, “lead on Macduff.” 

  
  


**12:00 PM**

**Riverdale Police Station**

The static of portable radios buzzed through the Riverdale Police Station as Betty and Jug pushed through the front doors and into the chaos of the day.

“Hey, you two,” called Sergeant Robinson from her desk. “You guys here to see FP?”

“Shonda! So nice to see you. How is the baby? Getting big I bet!” Betty gushed, always one to make their sources and connections feel valued.

A smile with a wattage similar to the sun spread across Sergeant Robinson’s face and she turned a picture frame on her desk towards them.

“He’s getting so big! He just started pulling up on coffee tables and chairs. Time to baby-proof our house now I guess,” she gushed, gazing at the photo.

“Oh yeah,” Betty said, tilting her head and smiling at the new photo. “Now you’ll never get another moment to sit, but it’s so worth it.”

As Betty beamed at the baby photo, Jughead looked at her with such reverence. His heart ached for her, but in the best way. Ever since graduation he’d been picturing the next steps for them and those steps included some tiny humans that hopefully looked a lot like her. He wasn’t ready anytime soon, but watching her grin at that photo was confirmation for him that he did, in fact, desire a domestic future with her; something he never would have pictured for himself in the past.

“Hey! Lovey and Dovey!” yelled FP from his office. “You coming to see me or not? We have a murder to solve.”

Saying their goodbyes to Shonda, they traipsed in to see FP, flopping down in the chairs in front of his desk.

“So, we got ourselves an odd one this time, don’t we?” FP said, offering them each a cup of coffee that he had set out for their arrival. 

Gripping the warm liquid gratefully in his hands, Jughead leaned back into his chair, letting the caffeine refresh and awaken him.

Betty politely thanked him before taking a sip, then covertly spitting the sludge back into her cup before adding some milk and sugar to hopefully make it drinkable. In her time living with the Jones men, Betty had learned early on to make sure she was the first one up so she could brew the coffee.

“Any word from Dr. Curdle Jr. yet?” She asked, adding the slightest bit more milk to her mug.

FP shook his head and checked his watch. “Probably another hour before he has any information back from a tox screen. You guys can pick that up for me. I assume you are headed there next.

Jughead nodded at his father and gestured at the photographs he had placed on his desk. “New evidence?”

Sliding the photographs their way, FP stood and began to fill them in on the new findings. 

“Apparently, Mary Jones was a collector of antiques. Her most favorite and prestigious find was an antique diamond ring that she never took off.”

Pouring himself another cup of coffee, he continued. “Her friends said that even when her arthritis got terrible and she couldn’t get the ring on anymore, she wore it around her neck on a chain.”

“Does arthritis get that bad?” Jughead questioned, oblivious to the conditions debilitating effects.

“It can literally cause constant pain and even make your fingers crooked and bent, Jug,” Betty explained.

Clicking his tongue in complete disgust, Jughead shook the image away that had formed in his mind, Betty laughing at his discomfort.

“Boy, you’re getting weak on me without the Serpents around to keep you busy patching up wounds,” FP teased.

About two years ago, with most members attending community college or relocating after the incident with The Farm, the Serpents took their final slither. They all met up regularly to catch up and rehash old times and still donned their jackets often, but really didn’t engage in any gang activity anymore.

“So I’m guessing the ring is gone?” Betty asked, bringing the investigation back to the forefront of their discussion.

“Nowhere to be found,” FP confirmed. “What I want to know is what do an antique ring, a retirement community, and a human-made bite all have in common.”

“This case is one conundrum after another,” Jug said.

“Well, Dr. Curdle Jr. should have those results ready soon. Why don’t you head on down there to see him, Betty, while Jug and I dig through these eye witness testimonies and see if there are any details we can feed off of,” FP suggested.

“Sounds like a plan,” Betty agreed, standing and putting her coffee mug back. “See you at home, Jug?” 

Briefly standing, he offered her a quick peck on the lips, knowing her reluctance for parental PDA even after all this time. 

“Yeah. I’ll pick up the Jameson and Pinot Grigio for tonight?” Jug said with a quick thumb stroke across her cheek.

“Ugh, I forgot about Veronica’s thing. That would be great,” she agreed, heading to the door.

“Bye, FP. I’ll call you when I finish up at the coroner’s office.”

With a nod from Sheriff Jones, Betty left. FP carefully watched her round the corner and head down the hall before he turned his gaze to his son.

Lowering his voice just in case he queried, “Does she suspect anything?”

Jug shook his head, leaning in closer across the desk. “Not at all. She’s so excited to have a case that she hasn’t slowed down one bit. I’m hoping we can stay one step ahead of her.”

FP laughed, shaking his head. “That sounds like Betty alright. You want to grab some lunch at Pop’s and talk details?”

“I could eat,” Jug replied.

  
  


**6:30 PM**

**111 Elm Street**

Steam flowed up from the shower, blanketing the mirrors and bathroom in a fragrant fog of pear and green tea. Betty sighed to herself, working her loofa into a lather, mind still scattered with the facts of the day. In an attempt to relax further she added a drop of lemon and a drop of peppermint essential oil to her lather as well, inhaling the fresh scents and slackened her shoulders.

As she began to soothe herself a bit she was accosted with a rush of cold air that assaulted her senses and pulled her from her warm fog.

“Jug!” She pouted, angrier at the lack of warmth than with his intrusion. “You’re letting all my steam out.”

Grabbing the loofa from her hands, he motioned for her to turn around. He gently began to pacify her by working the aromatic mixture into her skin with languid pressure.

“I could help you steam it up again,” he suggested, rubbing the shower gel into his palms and exchanging the loofa for them. His fingers deftly worked her muscles, her head falling back against him as he hit a particularly large knot near her shoulder blades.

“Or you could just keep doing that,” she teased, whimpering at the deliciously painful way he worked the muscle.

Using his thumb to dig into that particularly tense spot, his other arm rested across her lower belly, anchoring her back against him. “Find anything interesting at the coroner's office?”

“Mmmm. Oleander, Oh, yes, right there. She had large traces of Oleander in her system,” Betty explained.

“Oleander?” he asked, working his way lower down her shoulder blade. “I’ve seen that used a thousand times in mystery novels, but never in real life.”

“Yeah, super cliche if you ask me. Our killer is either poetic or at least loves lame crime novels,” Betty agreed. “Wash my hair?”

Grabbing her peppermint shampoo that she complained about the cost of, but could not live without, he lathered up his hands once again and began to work it into her scalp.

“So, how would someone even be poisoned by Oleander,” he probed.

“Well,” she sighed, languishing in his thumbs pressed against her neck and his finger in her hair. “It doesn’t grow around here, just in warmer climates mostly on the west coast. So I see it as one of two ways: Option 1 is she was injected with it which narrows our suspects down to those in the medical field. Option 2 is someone used leaves from the Oleander plant which gives us a wider range of suspects.”

“Well then, I’d say option 2 is a higher possibility. Many of the statements we read through today said that Mary and the other players had been served a round of tea after the third match before the finals.”

“Mary also had a heart condition, I believe. Oleander ingestion can cause serious heart problems for anyone with a heart condition. Depending on the dosage it can also cause nausea and diarrhea. Maybe our culprit didn’t mean to take Mary out of this life, but just out of the game,” Betty reasoned.

“Tomorrow we can interview some of the competitors again. Maybe see if any small details they may have left out before will help us make connections now.”

“You know, Jug. Dr. Curdle Jr. said that they don’t even usually test for said like that.”

“So what made him text for such an obscure poison,” Jughead wondered aloud, continuing his ministrations.

“Riverdale. Ever since Penelope’s greenhouse was exposed he hasn’t taken any chance,” she explained.

Tipping her head back, Betty rinsed her hair before turning to face him, linking her fingers behind his neck and pressing up against him.

“If you keep that up, Betty, we’re going to be late for Veronica’s shindig,” he explained, not caring at all how late they would be but knowing Betty might.

“You can’t just hop in my shower and stand there all wet and warm, talking about poisonings and interrogations, working your hands through my scalp and expect me not to get turned on,” she chastised.

“God, what did I do to deserve you,” he muttered as his lips found hers, crushing her mouth to his and pressing her up against the cool tile.

“Less focus on the past and more focus on the present,” she teased, wrapping a leg around his waist and coaxing him inside.

The variation in their height difference made their angle a little awkward at first, but this wasn’t their first rodeo. He lifted her slightly, using his hips to help brace her to bridge the height gap between them.

“This okay?” he asked, teeth nipping at her shoulder.

“Yeah, it’s good. Just harder,” she managed to spit out before further directing him. “Your teeth, Jug. Bite harder.”

He happily obliged.

As they moved in a familiar rhythm, eyes closed, lukewarm water tracing intricate patterns down their backs, Betty had a sudden notion.

“Jug, I just thought about something you said earlier, and, oh god, uh, I think we should check the bookcases at the Senior Center. Maybe one of her competitors got the tea leaf idea from a crime novel.”

Stopping his motions and gripping her jawbone in his hand, Jughead looked at her incredulously. “What is with you and having these revelations of yours in the middle of our moments. One minute- naked pretzel, next minute- old people.”

Betty grinned up at him and dug her fingers harshly against his back and ass.

“What can I say? You inspire me. Now, get back to what you were doing,” she smiled broadly.

“As you wish, boss lady,” he said, her words of encouragement reigniting his desire.

The shower spray drowned out their sounds and muffled their cries, their lips still connected, helping with that as well. As their fingers grasped for skin and their hips continued to collide, only one thing was certain. They were definitely going to be late.

  
  


**7:15 PM**

**The Pembrooke**

“You’re late,” Veronica stated flatly as they walked into her already crowded penthouse at the Pembrooke.

“Sorry, V. Something came up,” Betty explained, offering her friend a warm hug.

“Hmmm, well. I’m sure it was Jones’ fault somehow,” she joked before smiling and turning to hug him as well.

“I’ve told you before, Veronica you really don’t have to hug me every time we see each other. I promise I feel welcome here without such a physical greeting,” Jughead conveyed for what might be the thousandth time in their friendship.

Veronica grinned and stepped back from him, satisfied with his obvious discomfort. “And as I’ve said, Jughead, I’m going to hug you on repeat because I love watching you squirm. Plus, I assume I have you to blame for delaying my Bettykins over here.”

“Today it was all Betty, she needed her hair washed and you know how it goes…”

“Jughead!” Betty exclaimed, a look of horror written across her face.

Laughing at her aghast look, Veronica high fived him and turned to her friend. “For that, I'll allow the late appearance.” 

“We brought libations,” Jughead added, giving Betty’s cheeks time to cool down. He held them out and Veronica happily took them to add to the drink counter. 

“Much appreciated. Now go mingle and I’ll catch up with you in a few. Archie is around here somewhere trying to avoid my great aunt who keeps calling him, ‘such a nice boy’, and rubbing his biceps.” With determination and force that only Veronica Lodge could muster she shoved them into the commotion and went to seek her boyfriend.

The party for her graduation and job appointment was elegant, yet simple. Hermione has wanted to go all out, but uncharacteristically Veronica insisted on simple catering at their home and just some friends and family. With her business degree from Brown achieved, her mother had named her partner in Lodge industries, ensuring her a promising future, and to Betty’s delight, a home here in Riverdale.

“I’m going to hit the food,” Jughead decided. “You coming or are you good here?”

“I think I can manage on my own for a while,” she said sarcastically but added a squeeze to his hand for good measure.

With Jughead gone to scope out the buffet, Betty began to wander around the apartment looking for a familiar face. She ran her fingers along the mahogany bookshelves and gave the small globe perched there a spin.

“Betty?” A familiar voice called from behind her.

“Mom! Hermione!” Betty smiled, greeting them warmly with an embrace.

After dismantling The Farm, Alice from within and Betty and Jughead externally, the mother and daughter team slowly made amends. So much had been said and done that putting their relationship back together had been akin to a game of Jenga. But the depth of loss Betty had felt when they ascended and she lost her mother had convinced her to mend their broken bond no matter how long it took.

Alice, to her credit, had put in an equal amount of effort to reconnect with Betty and had been a much warmer presence in her life since then. Her efforts to expose The Farm coupled with Charles’ appreciation, landed Alice a job at the New York Times in their investigative department. There was a standing offer to help Betty and Jughead find a more prestigious paper placement from the pair as well since their names were well known in the journalistic world, but they had wanted to finish school and enjoy their time together in Riverdale first. They didn’t, however, plan on staying there forever. They’d recently been discussing jobs in Washington DC with the possibility of living nearby in Arlington.

“I didn’t know you were coming in from the city for this, Mom,” Betty gushed, lingering in her embrace a bit.

“Well, it worked out perfectly that I had some business in the area and this coincided,” explained Alice, taking in Betty’s appearance.

“You look great, honey,” Alice added. “You look happy and relaxed.”

Betty cringed internally wondering if her mother knew both of those things could be attributed to Jughead pinning her up against the shower wall an hour ago.

“What kind of business do you have, Mom?” she asked, curious about her current assignment.

Alice oddly brushed off her question, averting her eyes from Betty and tossing a peculiar look at Hermione. “Oh, nothing major. Just a few loose ends to tie up is all.”

As Betty was about to drop the topic, she saw Alice’s eyes shift to an older gentleman seated on the sofa.

“Would you excuse me, Hermione, Betty? We can catch up later, Betty. How about breakfast tomorrow at Pop’s? I’ll meet you after the party, Hermione, to talk business,” Alice said, excusing herself from the conversation.

Betty found it odd that her mother had brushed her off so quickly for an older gentleman who looked oddly familiar. She stared at him for a few moments, watching he and Alice have hushed words before Hermione brought her back to reality.

“It’s so wonderful having Veronica home,” she sighed. “I bet you girls will be happy to be able to hang out more again. I know Veronica missed you terribly every time she went back to Brown.”

Betty gave her a small smile and nodded. “I missed her, too. With all we went through together it’s kind of hard making other girlfriends. They don’t quite get it.”

Hermione nodded in understanding, her eyes discreetly watching Alice as well.

“What kind of business do you and my Mom have?” Betty asked, becoming more curious by the minute.

“Oh, nothing big, dear. Just a few little deals and publicity things planned is all. Why don’t you go grab some food and enjoy the party,” Hermione encouraged.

Giving them one last skeptical glance, Betty nodded and moved to turn, but not before the light caught her eye. Glistening on Hermione Lodge’s neck was a flower pendant, Oleander to be exact.

“That’s a gorgeous necklace, Mrs. Lodge,” Betty scrutinized. “What flower is it?”

Hermione became a bit flustered, trying her best to disguise it. “This? Oh, I have no idea. It was just a gift from an associate of mine,” she smiled. “Would you excuse me, dear?”

Hermione went over to where Alice and the older gentleman were still engaged in hushed discussion. Suddenly Betty’s world began to swirl and blur as she connected some of the fragmented dots in this case. Not only was Hermione wearing a pendant of their murder weapon, but she was talking to the scrabble champion of the Senior Center and so was Alice. The trio suddenly looked up at Betty watching them before going their separate ways. Betty headed in the same direction she always did; to find Jughead.

Pushing her way through the crowd, she found him still situated by the food, gnawing his way through a plate full of meat. Grabbing his elbow by the jacket sleeve, she pulled him towards Veronica’s room.

“Betty, not that I’m complaining or anything, but you could at least wait until we get home,” he joked, slinking back at the hard stare that met him.

“Jug, no. I was talking to my Mom and-“ she explained.

“Oh, I didn’t know Alice would be here. I should say hello, right? Keep things friendly and all and stay on her good side,” he said, turning to the door.

“Jug, listen to my words carefully. My mother and Hermione were talking business. That in itself is cause for alarm.” She was pacing back and forth in her friend's room, mind flooding with possibilities. 

“So they have business, Betts, I don’t get what is so bad about that. Lodge industries has gone legit since Hiram went away for 50 years without chance of parole,” Jug shook his head, trying to understand her worry.

“They were talking business with each other and with one Mr. Jenkins, the scrabble champion from our current case. And, Jug,” Betty paused looking up at him. “Hermione was wearing an Oleander pendant around her neck she said an ‘associate’ gave her.”

“Betty. This is your Mom we are talking about. Your Mom who took down The Farm at great personal cost to make sure nothing illegal was happening in Riverdale. Do you really think she’s somehow involved is killing old people for antiques?”

When he said it, she had to admit it sounded insane, but something peculiar was definitely going on.

“Maybe, Jug. But something here smells fishy to me and it’s not the salmon.” Betty stepped into his open arms, embracing him hard. She wanted to believe he was right, but in her gut, she knew there was more to the exchange than meets the eye.

“How about we just go enjoy the party and you relax with Veronica. You haven’t had more than an hour with her this whole month and I know you both need to catch up,” he suggested, eyebrows raising and a gentle grin on his face.

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s V’s big day. No more work for tonight,” she conceded. Appreciating his reassurance she stood on tiptoe to place a kiss to his lips. One peck turned into a series of kisses, not born from lust, but just a need for love and reassurance.

As their lips met again, the bedroom door flung open, their red-haired friend groaning and rolling his eyes at their locked lips.

“Do you guys ever stop?” Archie moaned as he entered the doorway. “You are still like 16 and constantly sickening.”

“Seriously, Arch,” Jug said. “This coming from you? You hardly ever have clothes on. It’s like being friends with a Calvin Klein model.”

Laughing at them to let them know he was busting, he ambled into the room and crashed onto the bed.

“Don’t blow my cover, Jug. I’m hiding from Ronnie’s aunts. They are so handsy for older women.”

Betty bit her lip and grinned at her friend’s discomfort before an idea popped into her mind. Archie was often useful when it came to their investigations. People tend to say things around him that they think may fall on deaf ears or go over his head. Sometimes they’d be talking facts and Archie would just drop a bomb that would open up a whole new world for them.

“So, Arch, we started investigating the murder of Mary Jones. Did you hear about that yet?”

Archie nodded, a flash of worry crossing his features. “Yeah, I read about that. What kind of sicko goes around biting women?”

Jughead peered over at Betty lasciviously and winked at her, causing a deep flush that spread across her face and chest. Clearing her throat and ignoring her boyfriend, she continued.

“She was actually killed by poisoning from a flower, Oleander. It’s super rare around here and usually not found on a tox screen.”

Archie later back against the bedspread, linking his arms behind his head and settling in, happy to be far away from the party guests for a while. 

“Oh, yeah. Those Oleander leaves are super potent.”

Jughead, who previously was lounging in Veronica’s desk chair doodling on her day planner to make her mad, snapped his eyes up to meet Archie’s and then Betty.

“You’ve, uh, read about them, Arch?” he asked, leaning forward now, look of concentration on his face.

Sitting up and heading to the door Archie held up his phone in explanation. “Ronnie. She says I’m sleeping in the lobby if I don’t get back out there. Girlfriends.”

“The Oleander, Arch?” Betty questioned intensely.

“Right. Yeah, it was Ronnie and your Dad actually, Jug. They were talking about it at the Riverdale Flower Festival last month.”

Archie headed back out into the party to appease his girlfriend, leaving Betty and Jughead sitting silently in Veronica's room.

“Jug, you don’t thi-,” Betty started.

“It’s a coincidence, Betty. Nothing more,” he sighed with a shake of his head.

“A coincidence? It’s not like Oleander comes up frequently in conversation, Jug!” Betty hissed quietly, not wanting to be overheard by the guests or people in question.

Jughead remained silent, leaning his head forward to run his fingers through his hair, wishing he still had his beanie that had bit-the-dust senior year for some comfort or to hide at this moment.

“Jug?” Betty prodded gently. “What if they are being framed. They’re our friends- our family. We have to at least look into it.”

Before he could respond Veronica burst through the door, Archie right on her heels shrugging at them apologetically. 

“This is a party. A party,” Veronica emphasized. “Don’t you spend enough time alone together doing whatever creepy stuff you two do? Today’s about me so come back out and celebrate.”

“Sorry, V,” Betty exhaled. “A new case has my mind rapid firing.”

Betty stood and Jughead followed suit, slipping his fingers between her own.

“Well, I have just the drink to help stop your brain for working at all,” Veronica’s gushed, her Cheshire-Cat grin lighting up her face. “Tonight we drink. Tomorrow you sleuth.”

**Saturday, June 8th**

**12:57 AM**

**111 Elm Street**

Jughead opened the windows to let the night air flow through. It was warm enough to want a cool breeze, but not enough to turn the air conditioning on yet. Besides, he preferred a natural flow of air over the artificial. 

The rest of the party had come and gone quickly. Betty was too keyed up to enjoy herself and her view of her best friend was currently muddled based on their discussion with Archie. 

The entire car ride home she had bounced her leg on the ball of her foot, her mind and stomach churning. He’d grabbed her hand over the center console to stop her from clenching her fists.

Now, as she stood at the sink brushing her teeth for bed, she argued over the validity of what Archie had shared. 

“Ifth camph bay e confishent,” she said before spitting in the sink, sticking her toothbrush back into the holder.

“Was that even English?” Jughead swapped his jeans for comfy plaid pajama pants and climbed into his side of the bed as she re-emerged from the bathroom in shorts and a tank top.

“I said, it can’t be a coincidence, Jug. It’s way too specific!”

She climbed in next to him as he held up the covers and scooted over onto his chest.

“Some things, Betty, are just what they seem. Coincidences. It was a flower festival,” he reasoned.

Sighing heavily and planting her chin on his chest, she gazed up at him, genuine concern gracing her features. “How could you, the world's biggest skeptic actually believe this was just a coincidence?”

Jughead pulled her closer and planted a kiss on the top of her head. “Betty, we know these people. They are our family. They’ve all been clean of any shady business for years now. Why would they just kill an old woman for an antique? It doesn’t make sense and if it doesn’t make sense it’s not true.”

Though she didn’t say anything else he could sense that she wasn’t ready to drop the possibility just yet of their involvement or someone setting them up which was more likely. Instead of discussing it further he flicked off the bedside lamp.

“Get some sleep, okay?” he soothed. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Jug.”

**7:54 AM**

The first thing he noticed was that there was an absent warmth from the bed and that he had a great deal more legroom. The second thing that assaulted his senses was the satisfying aroma of coffee. Stretching a bit and rolling to his side, half off the bed, he peeked over the covers to find Betty seated on the floor, coffee cup in hand, laptop in her lap with case notes spread all around.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” she snarked. “That 7-hour stretch help reinvigorate you?”

“Betty, it’s Saturday. On Saturday I like to stay in bed, preferably with my favorite blonde, until my stomach demands service.”

From her perch on the floor, she peered at him over her mug, finally setting it down slowly and deliberately on the stool to her left. Sliding her computer off her lap, Betty sauntered over to the bed and leaned over the foot. With slow, precise motions, she crawled up towards the headboard, eyes locked on his. As she reached his body, she straddled him and continued her climb until her hips settled over his.

Though he’d spent countless nights and mornings this way, he was always in awe of her and never tired of their time together. 

“See, now this is more like it,” he sighed, hands coming up to her waist, thumbs pressing into her hip bones. “This is how I like my Saturday mornings.”

“Yeah?” Betty whispered coyly, arching her brow. “Jug?”

The second his name left her lips he knew he was in trouble. He attempted to flip them and she pushed the covers off him, fingers assaulting his ribs and feet pushing at his knees.

“Get up! Get up! Get up! We have work to do,” she yelled as she laughed, trying with all her might to shove him from their bed. 

Finally gaining a foothold, he managed to flip her over, pinning her now and returning the tickling battery against her sides.

“Stoooop! Stoooop!” Her voice echoes through the room as he squirmed beneath him, saved only by a rapping on their bedroom door.

Pausing mid-tickle, Jughead sat up and let Betty squirm out from underneath him.

“Yeah?” He called to the knocker.

FP very slowly and cautiously pushed open the bedroom door, face awkward and a bit tired looking.

“Jug. Betty. Morning guys,” FP said, still lingering in the doorway.

Betty and Jughead nodded uncomfortable hellos back before FP spoke again. 

“So, listen. I know you two are adults and, um, you have certain adult freedoms in your own home, and I, uh…”

“Oh for the love of cheese doodles, Dad,” JB yelled, pushing her way forward. “Nobody around here wants to hear your 8 AM tickle fights, your midnight, ‘I love you more. No, I love you more’s’, and we all know what’s going down when you play that god awful jazz playlist you two made. You are not the only ones who live here!”

Punctuating her words wit a flick of her hair, JB stormed downstairs for breakfast. FP still stood awkwardly in the doorway, fixing the top button on his uniform.

“Yeah, what she said,” he stuttered, nodding and closing the door again.

Beet red and mortified, Betty sank back into him while Jughead, who seemed undisturbed by the whole scenario, laughed heartily at her discomfort.

“That’s it, Jug. I know we wanted to save money but we really need to move out,” she groaned.

“I agree. I do think it’s time. But even more importantly, is my playlist that bad?”

He barely ducked before the pillow flew in his direction.

  
  


**9:45 AM**

**Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe**

The bell on the door jingled as Betty entered Pop’s, scanning the vinyl booths to find Alice already seated and sipping her coffee, a second steaming cup already poured opposite her on the table. Offering Pop Tate a quick wave and a smile, Betty joined her mother and slid into the old, worn booth.

“Hey, Mom,” Betty greeted. “Sorry I’m a few minutes late.”

Alice smiled warmly, taking another sip of her hot beverage and grabbed Betty’s hand across the table, giving it a quick squeeze.

“No worries, dear. I was honestly just enjoying some quiet time here. There’s nothing like being back at Pop’s.”

Mending their fractured mother-daughter relationship had been hard work. On one hand, Betty’s innate need to investigate things and get to the bottom of mysteries helped her to understand her mother’s actions from her junior year. On the other hand, she was a 17-year-old girl who needed her mother. The road to repair was long and tedious, but they were in a good place now. One of the benefits to the entire ordeal was the level of respect Alice now showed her, never questioning Betty’s decisions or lifestyle.

“So, Betty, How is Jughead doing? Is he happy to be finished school as well?”

Betty flagged down Pop Tate before answering, ordering pancakes and a side of bacon. 

“He’s good, Mom. Great actually. We’re both excited to just be able to dedicate our time to one thing instead of writing papers and articles at the same time.”

Alice nodded along with her daughter’s words. 

“Yes, I can imagine it’s been a lot for you both, but if anyone can handle it, it’s you two.”

Betty pouted out her lower lip in an emotional smile and sat back further against the booth, her jeans making a squeaking sounds against the vinyl.

“Thanks, Mom. That means a lot.”

“Well, I should say it more often Betty. How proud I am of the two of you and how proud I am of you for looking past outward perceptions and digging deep. Not everyone saw Jughead the way you did and you have never wavered. And he... well, Jughead has been a wonderful part of your life.”

“Well, in all fairness to Jug, he was the same for me. He saw right through the ‘perfection’ act we put on Mom, and helped me to figure out who I really was and made it okay to be who I wanted to be.”

“I’m just, I’m so proud of you, Betty,” Alice choked out, tears messing up her perfectly administered mascara.

Betty scooted around to her mother’s side of the booth to embrace her in a concerned manner.

“Mom, is everything okay? What has you all emotional and reminiscent?”

Alice sighed and used the napkin under her flatware to dab at her eyes, wiping away any sign of her emotional slip.

“Nothing. Everything is totally fine, dear. It’s just been three months since I’ve seen you since we didn’t get to talk after your graduation and I just love you is all.”

“I love you, too, Mom,” Betty said squeezing Alice’s hand. Before things could get deeper, Betty’s pancakes and Alice's omelet showed up and Betty scooted back over to her side to eat.

Betty had been strategically waiting for the right moment to bring up Alice’s business here in Riverdale and this may be her only chance. Putting down her fork she geared herself up.  _ Here we go,  _ she thought.

“Hey, Mom?” Betty asked. “At V’s party I saw you talking to Mr. Jenkins. Was he the business you were here for?”

Alice paused mid-bite, seemingly taken aback by Betty’s words and her eyes shifted quickly. Alice Cooper, being herself, regathered her expressions and wits immediately before answering.

“No, Betty. Just an old friend from town. I was always taught to respect my elders so I felt obliged to say hello.”

“But, Mom, Why was he even there? And why did Mrs. Lodge run over to talk with him, too?”

Alice sighed and dropped her fork once again, wiping her lips.

“Betty, not everything is a mystery. He is just an old friend.” Alice punctuated her words with a patented Alice Cooper head nod and wide eyes, signally the end of their discussion on the matter.

Picking up her fork once again, Alice resumed her polite conversation.

“So, when are you and Jughead going to get a place of your own?”

  
  


**1:15 PM**

**Riverdale Senior Center**

Later that afternoon, Betty and Jughead arrived at the Senior Center to interview some of the patrons present the night of Mary Jones’ murder. So far, after two hours of discussion they had learned the following:

  1. Mary smoked 2 packs a day since she was 12.
  2. Once, she saw Elvis Presley in her toaster strudel frosting.
  3. She often had swelling and a cough from her goiter.
  4. Mr. Fenton from the Southside thought she was one hot tamale. 
  5. She cheated at Scrabble.



Jughead sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger, wiping away the headache that was forming.

“Betty, we are getting nowhere fast with these interviews,” he complained.

Betty rotated her neck followed by her shoulder blades, little cracklings and pops emanating from them like popping bubble wrap as their next witness, Mr. Jenkins. Seeing him approach, heavily relying on his cane for support, Betty sat up in anticipation. She remembered Mr. Jenkins from her youth, working at the Twilight Drive-In theater, and from Veronica’s party last night. For the life of her, she couldn’t connect why he would be invited.

“Now remember,” Jughead whispered. “Don’t make this personal.”

“Got it,” Betty nodded, lower lip sucked between her front teeth. “Not personal. Not personal at all.”

Their suspect finally reached them and offered his greetings as he slowly and carefully lowered himself into the chair.

“So,” he huffed, placing his cane to the side. “To what do I owe the honor of having Riverdale’s two ace reporters so keen on speaking with me. And before you begin, if it’s about that old bat, Mary, I didn’t kill her, but I’d like to shake the hand of the man that did.”

Jughead disguised a smile behind his fist, warning and angry sneer from Betty.

“Mr. Jenkins, this  _ is _ about Mary I’m fact. If there anything you maybe forgot to tell the police in your original statement or that you remembered afterward?”

Mr. Jenkins rolled his eyes and loudly banged the edge of his cane on the foot of the table. “Tea! It’s my afternoon tea time!” He yelled loudly out in the open air as if everyone on the floor was at his beck and call.

Leaning over to Betty, Jug whispered, “I like this guy. Total character, but not a murderer. They’d hear him coming from miles away.”

“Now dollface, I’ll tell you the same thing I told that policeman. Mary Jones was a dirty cheat. She cheated at Scrabble, she cheated at cards, and she swindled people all the time in her ‘antique’ business.”

As he mentioned antique business he used his fingers to form air quotes around the words.

Betty furrowed her brow. If Mr. Jenkins has shared this with FP or Shonda it would have been in the file, but nothing like that was present. A steward in a black uniform came by their table and placed a cup of tea for Mr. Jenkins down.

“Can you just refresh my memory, Mr. Jenkins? What was so corrupt about Mary’s antique trade?” Jughead prodded.

He had just picked up his teacup as Jughead asked him the question. Sighing, he placed it back down and focused his eyes on them. 

“Like I told the officer I spoke with, Officer Jones, her deals were all shady. Some of those ‘antiques’ in question were cheap knockoffs or just plain generic items. That antique trade was a cover for something if you ask me, money laundering would be my guess, but hey, I’m just an old man. What do I know?”

After dropping this bombshell, Betty couldn’t help but spirals back to her thoughts from yesterday. She refused to believe any of her friends or family would be involved in such a scheme, but she could believe they would be used as scapegoats for such an event as they are easy targets.

“How exactly do you know the Lodges, Mr. Jenkins. I saw you at Veronica’s party last night talking to my mother,” Betty pressed.

“That’s where I recognize you from! You’re Alice Cooper’s kids,” he yelled. “Ha! I can see the resemblance now! The Lodges and I go way back honey.”

Reaching forward once more, he lifted his teacup and took a sip of the cooling liquid.

“That’s terrible,” he yelled, spitting it back in the cup. “This new guy over here can’t even make the right tea I tell you. His first night he ruined our whole dessert spread at the tournament.”

Betty’s eyes snapped up to Jughead and she found his staring back at her with equal intensity. Before she could express her thoughts they were interrupted by the bang of a cane and a rather violent round of coughs.

“Mr. Jenkins?” Jughead said, standing from his seat to run to his side.

“Jug!” Betty yelled. “His teacup! That’s an Oleander leaf!”

His cough escalating, Betty called frantically for help, the steward from before not within sight. At the same moment, Betty and Jughead both noticed him slyly shimmying out a side door.

“Jug!” She yelled once more.

“You got him?” he asked her, already edging towards the door.

Betty nodded and like a bolt out of the blue, Jughead took off after the man in black. Another worker from the Senior Center came to Mr. Jenkins aid and his coughing had begun to subside. Betty knew his partial sip was not enough to induce oleander poisoning, but at his age, he should be monitored carefully.

Knowing that he was being taken care of, Betty rose and staggered her way to the exit door to find Jughead and their mystery steward. 

“Miss Cooper, stay here!” Mrs. Hedgeman yelled, watching Betty flee into the garden.

Frantically her eyes scanned the yard for any sign of Jughead or their mysterious assailant. A nearby patron of the Senior Center seemed to sense her desires because she quickly spoke up. 

“Are you looking for those handsome young men who were playing tag?” She asked.

Betty nodded and leaned in towards the woman.

“Yes,” she said breathily. “Yes, I am. Which way do they go?”

“Oh! What fun! You must be it then! Don’t tell them I spoiled their hiding spot, but they went through the hedges just over there,” the old woman told her, face lit up with the excitement of the game.

“Thank you!” Betty yelled, setting off in a run.

The Senior Center’s hedges let out into a wooded area near Sweetwater River. With so many directions choices and paths, Betty knew finding them wouldn’t be simple. Paying close attention to the patches of mud without grass growing, she noticed the imprint of a boot’s heel and set off in that direction, hoping it belonged to one of the men she sought.

Feet thumping in the muddy brush, twigs and branches slapping away at her skin like tiny insect stings, Betty stayed in pursuit. Each boulder or large tree in her path didn’t stop her momentum, she’d quickly reevaluate the evidence, praying she wasn’t reading it wrong, and finally, as her path ended and she came to the main road, she realized she had done just that.

Behind her, a twig crackled and leaves crunched. The hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle. She was undecided if the sound of the soft doorstep behind her was close by or an echo through the silent, still forest. Closing her eyes briefly and swallowing hard, Betty moved to turn just as she was accosted by a pair of large arms enveloping her. Her fight instinct flew into full gear but quickly shut itself down. She’d know his scent anywhere. Opening her eyes she confirmed what her body already sensed. 

“Jug,” she breathed out, embracing him hard.

“I’m sorry, Betts,” he said, still breathing heavily. “He got away.”

**Ten Minutes Prior**

He stopped in the clearing, hands braced on his bent knees, head dropping forward as his chest expanded with deep heaves, trying to catch his breath.

“I thought you were in better shape than that,” a voice called from the other side of the path. 

“Yeah, me too,” was Jughead’s reply. 

Lifting his head to find his companion, Jughead trudged his way over to the other side of the path. The steward, still decked out in his black attire, now with the addition of a black leather Serpents jacket greeted him there with a firm handshake and a half hug.

“If I had known I’d have to run, I may not have agreed to get involved in this, Jug,” he said, taking a drag of the cigarette he was smoking.

“Yeah, not sure what we were thinking on this one,” Jug admitted.

“From what I hear you don’t think too clearly when your girl is around, or so the guys say,” he joked with another puff of his Marlboro Red.

“You know what to do next?” Jughead confirmed with him.

He nodded, flicking his cigarette and putting it out filling with the heel of his boot.

“Don’t worry, boss. We got you. Operation Platinum is still a go.”

Chewing at the cuticle on his finger, Jughead began to look back over his shoulder.

“She’ll come for me. You need to get out of here. Tomorrow at around 11:00 I meet with Veronica. Don’t be late,” he directed, turning and heading back towards the Senior Center.

**Sunday, June 9th**

**111 Elm Street**

**8:00 AM**

Their soft whispers were muted by the rustle of the bedsheets, the white of the comforter brightened with the strong pre-summer sun streaming through.

Rolling to face her and pulling her hands between his own, Jughead looked up to see her worrying at her lower lip.

“Stop bruising your lip,” he whispered. “That’s my job.”

Exhaling audibly, she released the red, plump skin from between her teeth, offering him a small smile coupled with a pout.

“I could practically hear you thinking, Betty,” he said, scooting closer.

“I know. I’m sorry. I just can’t stop thinking about Mr. Jenkins and Veronica and your Dad and… my Mom! They can’t be involved, Jug. It has to be a setup.”

Betty quickly hushed herself, not wanting to feel the wrath of JB again today and whispered a quiet sorry across their now shared pillow.

Tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear he slid himself even closer to her, nose brushing nose. “Don’t worry about it. Dad is on one of his ‘trust’ kicks again and is at one of the churches getting his face out there and JB meets some friends at the skate park early Sunday mornings from now until school starts again.”

Recently FP had taken to visiting Catholic Churches, Christians, Baptists, Jewish temples, and Mosques all in an attempt to build a sense of community and familiarity in Riverdale. 

“Oh, I see. So, my ranting and raving won’t disturb anyone but you this morning,” she said slyly, baiting him. Casually, but with too much direction to be innocent, she removed her hand from her hip where it rested and brought her pointer finger up to carefully trace the muscles up by his pecs.

Jughead dropped his voice a bit, a slight rasp settling in his throat as he watched her finger dance across his skin. “I’ve been told that I’m already pretty disturbed, Betts. Do you want to take that chance?”

Tilting her hips towards his, Betty hooked her left leg over his hips and began to unbutton the nightshirt she was wearing. “I hear that disturbed men make unpredictable lovers. I could use a little disturbance this morning.”

He needed no further encouragement. He stilled her hands in his own and at the speed of light Jughead had flipped Betty to her back, wrists pressed tightly to the mattress above her head, his thigh wedged between her own. 

Betty’s eyelids had enlarged just a bit and her breathing became shallow. Slowly and deliberately, he let his eyes lock with hers before burning a trail down her body, taking full advantage of the view provided by her loose buttons. Pressing himself into her harder he dropped his lips to her ear.

“Tell me what you want,” he purred, letting his tongue flick out to taste the space below her ear.

Betty arched up into him, craving even more contact. “Just you, Jug.”

He shook his head. “Tell me what you want.” 

She knew he wouldn’t relent, but with him, she wasn’t shy either.

Betty went still under him and purposely locked his gaze with her own, mustering up all the sass she could. “Alright, Mr. Oral Fixation. Why don’t you stop talking and put that mouth to good use.” 

With a smug grin, he released her wrists and kissed his way down her neck.

“I thought you’d never ask. Prepare to be disturbed, Miss Cooper.”

**9:00 AM**

He had complained that they were out of coffee. They had no whole beans, no grounds, and none of those awful, sweet prepackaged Frappuccino things JB drank either. His pout was so real and boyish that it was absurd; so absurd that it was adorable. Hence why she found herself headed back from the local cafe with two iced coffees and some pastries for good measure. 

She hopped the steps up to the house two at a time having Jug added a little pep to her step first thing this morning, only to pause at a mustard-colored envelope with her name scrolled on the top. She didn’t recognize the handwriting, but that didn’t mean anything. People left them anonymous information all the time.

Entering the house she could tell no one else was home yet and the shower was running. Jughead, the man who had worn a wool hat for his entire childhood, spent a lot of time conditioning the raven coiffure of his nowadays and would be at least another fifteen minutes.

Betty propped her elbows on the kitchen counter and took a bite of the apple turnover she had been eyeing while online this morning, enjoying the sweetness mixed with the tang of the apples. She grabbed the envelope that she found on the stoop or tore open the top, careful not to rip the contents. As she lifted the photograph from the envelope, her face slackened and her previously adored pastry fell to the kitchen floor. Her mind reeled and her insides twisted.

_ This can’t be.  _ She thought to herself.  _ There must be another explanation. _

Just then she heard the shower turn off and the bathroom door open. She folded the offending photograph and shoved it inside her jeans pocket, stuffing the envelope deep into the bottom of the trash can just as she heard his footsteps padding into the kitchen.

“Mmm coffee,” he sighed. “Thanks, Betts.”

Betty tried to keep her composure but wanted to question him so badly. Her reporter’s instinct took over though and she restrained herself.

“Hey, Betts, I have to meet a guy from news & editorial class at The Whole Bean real quick this morning. He wants some interview tips before his first big one next week. You don’t mind, do you?”

She shook her head and forced a smile. “Of course not. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

Grinning, he gave her a quick kiss before grabbing his coffee and heading out the door.

Only after she was sure he wasn’t returning did Betty remove the paper from her pocket once more. She stared down at the photograph; the photograph of Jughead in the woods shaking hands with the assailant from the Senior Center, Serpent tattoo now visible, time and date stamped from that same afternoon.

_ There has to be some explanation _ she thought. Scrawled in black marker across the photo was a message:  **Sunnyside Trailer Park. 10:00 AM.**

Looking at the microwave clock she realized she had time to make it. She grabbed her keys and headed out the door, ready to see what Jughead had gotten himself tangled up into this time.

**Sunnyside Trailer Park**

**10:07 AM**

Betty peeked through the trees at the empty scene before her. No one was within sight, no informant or assailants.  _ What does this informant want me to see?  _ Betty wondered. Betty was ready to wait it out but didn’t have to wait long. Slowly, two figures came into view. Two very familiar figures: Jughead and Veronica.

“What the-“ she muttered, trying to get a better view and cursing herself for not being better at lip-reading. She watched them have a brief but serious discussion before Veronica handed him a tiny box and a large bag, giving him a small hug which he actually returned. He then passed her a small item, possibly a business card. She examined it briefly for a moment before tearing it up and letting the pieces cascade into the dry, green grass, clearly lacking water from the early summer heat. The pair looked around carefully before setting off on their separate ways. 

Betty waited for them to disappear completely before letting out a breath she was holding. Quietly and slyly, she snuck over to where they had been standing and knelt down to examine the pieces of the shredded business card. If Veronica wanted to be discreet, she hadn’t done a great job of it. The card was easy enough to reassemble in the grass and stay cocked her head to the side to read the mangled printing on it.

_ Andersons’s Flower Shop _

_ 477 Main Street, Riverdale _

_ Flowers Work Like Magic _

Scrolled along the middle of the card was a name along with a date and time stamp.

_ Andre. 6/9 10:30 AM _

Betty glances down at the rose gold watch adorning her wrist and cursed herself. It was 10:30 now. Perhaps if she put the pedal to the metal she could catch a glimpse of something. She had to try, she reasoned. Were Jughead and Veronica wrapped up in something bad? Were they being blackmailed? She was determined to find out.

**10:48 AM**

**Anderson’s Flower Shop**

Betty parked her car a few doors down from the shop. If she had more time she would have parked a few blocks back instead, but time was of the essence if she was going to help her friends. Scanning the street she noticed a few couples walking and carrying cups of coffee from the new shop that opened recently, the one her boyfriend was supposed to be meeting a friend at.

Pushing back her annoyance, she wandered closer to the flower shop, casually strolling by and noticing only a cashier in the storefront. She was too late. With her frustration mounting, she turned to leave. As she headed back to her car a nagging force dragged her back towards the Flower Shop. Between Anderson’s Flowers and the hardware store was a tiny brick alleyway. Betty found her feet silently tapping the bricks there while she considered her options before stealthily heading down the narrow passageway. 

At the end of the alley was a tall fence preventing her from seeing behind the store. Lucky for her, propped against the fence was a dumpster and a fire escape ladder hatch. Mustering up all the strength she had in her, Betty reached for the fire escape rungs and used them to help her haul her body on top of the dumpster.

Her initial landing let out a bit of a  _ thud  _ and she thought she heard the scuffle of feet. She lay her body down flat on the green receptacle for a moment, trying not to think about how truly abhorrent laying on a dumpster actually was. 

Convinced the coast was clear, Betty carefully stood up and on tiptoe peered over the fence. What she saw through her for a loop and she had to stop herself from audibly gasping and blowing her cover. The steward from the Senior Center, tattoo now clearly visible was standing at the open back of a large white transport truck. 

_ Was Anderson’s Flowers providing the Oleander? Did they know what it was being used for? Or worse, was Anderson’s Flowers a front for a new, much more dangerous, type of Serpent watering hole. _

All these things raced through Betty’s mind as she watched him shift back and forth; clearly keeping guard. Startling her from her ruminations, the back door to the shop creaked open and two new figures appeared carrying a large wooden crate; a crate similar to the one Jughead had described from when Penny made him run deliveries.

Grabbing her cellphone, Betty took a deep breath. She was determined to snap of shot of all their faces and take it home to FP to get to the bottom of this. Lifting up her phone camera, Betty’s finger paused mid-shot. As the crate was turned, the two faces of the carriers became visible and they were two very familiar faces: FP himself and Alice Cooper.

“FP and my Mom?” she mouthed to herself, fingers beginning to tremble. Taking a deep breath and setting her jaw hard, she snapped the photos for her records and watched them load the crate into the truck. They both shook hands with Andre before the flower truck pulled away and then in an odd display, Alice looked up at FP, almost as if she was about to cry, and he embraced her tightly. His chin was situated on top of her head and her arms grabbed his waist as if she was holding on for dear life. Betty slid down the dumpster carefully and slowly snuck her way out of the alley, the scene seeming too private to watch.

Betty’s stomach was once again churning and her mind racing. She decided to pop into The Whole Bean and grab a tea to soothe her nerves and think things through. She also didn’t want to been driving from the scene by either Alice or FP.

That embrace, however, had convinced her of one thing: whatever they had gotten sucked into clearly had them emotional and was not of their own volition. 

**111 Elm Street**

**11:52 AM**

With her mind whirling with possibilities, Betty flew through the front door. FP was in the kitchen making a sandwich and waved at her arrival. Too keyed up for niceties and not yet wanting to confront him, she waved back and took the stairs up to their room two at a time. 

When she arrived, Jughead wasn’t there, but his black duffel was. Sitting inside was a cellphone, a short use prepaid one if she had to guess and it had a voicemail. She was torn internally on what to do. She trusted Jughead with her life and knew that if he was keeping something from her, while she was angry with him, it must be for her protection. Should she evade his privacy like that?

_ Screw protection _ she thought and she grabbed the phone from the bag. Locking the bedroom door she sat down on the bed and listened.

_ Mr. Jones, I have one last proposal for you. If you choose not to meet me, you know the repercussions for Ma Cooper. I trust you have the package from Ms. Lodge. 12:30 PM. Pickens Park. Don’t be late.  _

Panic seized her bones and the last undigested remnant from her apple turnover that had been sitting in her stomach began to rise up with the influx of acid she developed. Someone was using him and Veronica and possibly even her mother and FP. 

Making a snap decision, Betty opened the locked nightstand drawer with the old brass key from her jewelry box and wrapped her hand around the cool metal of the Sig Sauer she kept hidden there. She had continued shooting and target practice partly as a therapeutic activity but also in part because her fear from The Black Hood and nightmare at the Blossom hunting grounds never fully left her. Loading up her ammo, she clicked on the safety and tucked the handheld weapon into her pocket under her shirt. She grabbed her keys and headed out the door.

_ I’m coming, Jug,  _ she thought to herself.

**Pickens Park**

**12:22 PM**

“Jughead?” He turned in the gazebo towards her voice, inhaling deeply at her arrival. 

“Betty.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets, pulling down in his suspenders which were properly fastened over his buttoned shirt. “I guess you figured it all out, then?”

Betty stepped up into the gazebo and looked up at him through confused eyes. She took his hand and shook her head.

“Jug, please talk to me. Are you in trouble? What’s going on?”

Jughead took a deep breath and peered out over the park. In her palms, she could feel his hands begin to tremble and he felt as though every nerve ending in his body was alive. His eyes dropped down to the black duffel bag at his feet before meeting hers again.

Slowly he sauntered to the railing of the gazebo. “Go ahead. Open it. See for yourself what’s going on,” he sighed, running a sweaty palm through his hair.

Betty held his gaze for a moment longer until he nodded again before dragging her eyes back to the bag on the floor. She carefully bent down and unzipped the bag, finding a gray beanie, similar to Jughead’s old one and a rolled-up newspaper. 

Confusion was written all over her face. None of this made sense. 

“Open the paper,” he stammered.

She turned to look at him and no longer saw the shakiness from before, but a new fire and determination. It shook her a bit.

“Jug…”

“Betty, open the paper.”

The newspaper was rolled up with twine. She undid the bow and let the twine fall to the gazebo floor, unrolling the paper and inhaling the familiar scent of fresh ink.

At the top, she saw the headline and logo for their paper, The Register, and today’s date, though nothing else looked like she remembered from their set layout.

“Jug, I don’t under-“ Betty’s breath was caught in her throat as her brain finally caught up to her eyes and she recognized the headline to be a quote from Beloved, her favorite novel by Toni Morrison.

_ Me and you, we got more yesterday than anybody. We need some kind of tomorrow. _

Though the headline caused her a brief palpitation of the heart, what was below it gave her pinpricks; the good kind you get right before something big happens- anticipation. Under the headline, she began to whisper read out loud.

_ Betty Cooper: Without your determination, the town of Riverdale would be swept away by evil. Without your light, I’d be swept away by darkness. I’m not sure how I existed before there was an us; before your warmth drew me from the cold; before your heart showed mine how to beat again. The time we spend together is like a hotdog, I relish it. All I know is that I never want another breath or another beat to happen without you by my side. You are the blood that runs through my veins, my oxygen, my beloved.  _

Somewhere in the middle, Betty had stopped reading aloud, her eyes clouded by tears and fingers shaking. Jughead, having memorized this by now, mustered up the courage to come forward and finish reciting his declaration. As he finished reading, he pulled from his pocket the box she saw Veronica hand him earlier today.

Trembling and giving off a nervous laugh he confessed, “I had Veronica hang onto this so you didn’t find it. You are quite the detective, you know.”

She laughed hard at that through her smile and tears and wiped some wetness away with the back of her hand.

Picking up the gray beanie from the ground, he placed it on her head.

“I did that once before and promised you we were partners in life. So, phew,” he said taking a breath and dropping to his knee. “Here we go.”

“Jug-“

“No, Betts, let me finish,” he begged and she nodded.

“To once again quote your favorite novel, ‘She is a friend of mind. She gather me, man. The pieces I am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order. It's good, you know, when you got a woman who is a friend of your mind.’ We started this as an investigation, Betts, so it was only fitting that an investigation make it forever. From The Twilight to Sweetwater River, here at Pickens Park where we reconnected over a mystery, to Sunnyside Trailer Park where we had many of our firsts, I’d do it all over again. And I want to, Betty. Every day and everything is what I want from you. Elizabeth Cooper, will you marry me?”

Still wiping away her tears, Betty choked out, “I love him, and that’s the beginning and the end of everything.”

“Did you just semi-quote the Great Gatsby during my big speech?”

At that, she laughed and held out her hand to him. “Jug. I- oh my god I’m a mess.” She laughed again. “Yes. Yes.”

Without hesitation he plucked the ring from the box and slipped it on her finger, perfectly fitted thanks to Veronica’s assistance and then promptly stood, his lips finding hers with a profound intensity. Leaning against the edge of the gazebo, they kissed; slow wet kisses full of promise and full of love.

Lifting his hands to wipe her tears away, she finally spoke for the first time since her strangled, ‘yes’.

“This whole case file, Jug, and Mary Jones- was that even real?”

“Betty,” he said with a shake of his head. “Mary Jones. Marry Jones.”

At her disbelieving look, he laughed and kissed her again for good measure. 

“You were itching for a case and I was a man with a plan. Those photos of Mary Jones were of Mrs. Hedgeman’s sister who heard about us and wanted to help. Your Mom and my Dad organized the crime scene photos and evidence. The whole Riverdale PD was in on it, too, and Mr. Jenkins, well he and I go way back. He used to sneak me food and talk to me when I was back at the Twilight. I knew you’d want to protect Veronica and then me once you thought we were both wrapped up in something. It was tough, but fun, trying to anticipate your moves.”

“And the whole biting thing?” she asked.

“You like it when I bite you,” he wisecracked. “I tossed that in there for color.”

“So, what you’re saying is basically the whole town knew about this, except me?”

Jughead grinned at her astonished expression and dropped his hands lower on her backside, plopping a kiss on her forehead. 

“You’re cute when you’re oblivious.” His hands settled on the curve of her waist and his eyes squinted with an amused, curious twinkle.

“Betty, are you packing heat during my proposal?” he whispered low, palm now feeling the outline of her weapon.

“I thought you were in trouble! I-“ 

She stopped speaking as his laugh began and then was quickly swallowed by his lips catching hers again.

“Why am I not surprised,” he shook his hand. “C’mon, follow me.”

He tugged her out of the gazebo and through the park. A few hundred feet away was a patch of trees. They stalked through only to come out into a clearing that was not clear at all. Tables had been set, balloons inflated, flowers scattered all about, and lots of familiar faces stood nearby.

“Jug?”

“A Veronica Lodge and Alice Cooper organized engagement party, planned by events extraordinaire, Kevin Keller. Surprise.”

“What if I had said ‘no’?” Betty asked with an arch of her brow, clearly teasing.

“I ensured my survival by giving it a little extra oomph in bed this morning,” he deadpanned, dodging the slap she issued to his arm.

About to berate him again, she was cut off by squeals and a crowd coming her way. Her mother and Polly, Veronica, Kevin and dozens of other friends and family all came one by one to congratulate them.

Alice was crying, gushing about how proud she was of how far they’ve come. Kevin and Veronica started talking wedding plans that made Betty’s head spin and Jughead’s stomach churn. Cheryl commented on Betty’s lifelong hobo status and how Jughead was so out of his league. 

FP and JB finally made it up to them last, offering hugs and congratulations and a small gift.

“Dad? What is it?” he asked him, opening the box.

With a cocky grin, FP spoke. “It’s a key to a room at The Five Seasons. You two are bad enough on a regular night. JB and I couldn’t imagine how tonight would be.”

Betty turned petal pink, then fuschia, then Pantone’s Flame Scarlet. Jughead just mumbled and said, “Fair enough.”

As the food was eaten and the guests dwindled. They were exhausted from mingling and wandered away from the party, holding hands and rubbing shoulders as they walked.

“I still can’t believe you planned this elaborate proposal,” Betty grinned shaking her head. “Who knew you were such a romantic.”

“Only for you, Betty Cooper. I wanted to surprise you,” he blushed, planting a peck on the top of her head.

Betty squeezed his fingers and pulled him farther from the crowd. “You always do, Juggie. Now, about that room at The Five Seasons…”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for sticking with me through this story and thanks to so many of you for encouraging me! EXTRA special thanks to @jandjsalmon for her amazing editing skills... seriously this would be a mess without her.
> 
> This story was originally longer and an actual mystery but then the end twist just hit me. I shortened the story because of the new twist.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! For more follow me on Tumblr @likemereckless


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